


Silicon Mind

by Nienna



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asimov-inspired, Gen, M/M, Robots, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nienna/pseuds/Nienna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded on an isolated planet and racked with guilt, Richard’s only comfort might be in the humaniform robot Asbel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silicon Mind

**Author's Note:**

> The term “humaniform robot”, along with the fundamental laws of robotics, are Isaac Asimov’s creations. This story is loosely based on Asimov’s robot lore, though being familiar with his works is not necessary to understand it.

Richard was used to loneliness.

His people were in the process of dying out, fading from the history of humankind. They would pass on, leaving their work unfinished, lost in a world no one would ever find.

And it was his fault.

Years ago, he had been declared captain of the Zenith, a massive spaceship built for the ambitious Infinity Project. His task consisted of leading a crew of three hundred people to explore the galaxy in search of habitable planets. They were to find a world that could be terraformed, begin the first stage of the process, and relay the news to Earth.

However, Richard failed. Something went astray during landing, and the Zenith’s long-distance communication equipment was rendered useless. They couldn’t inform Earth of their location. And so, the crew was lost, stranded on a far-away planet, lacking the fuel to return and the supplies to survive for anything beyond half a dozen years.

Richard worked alone, in an office few rarely ever stepped into. Their colossal ship, after having landed, had been converted into a small city, a base of operations for the beginning of the terraforming process. As the expedition’s leader, Richard was in charge of the highest level of the decision-making chain; problems were often brought to him by communicator, and he attended to them meticulously. Everyone in the base was trying to behave as if nothing had gone amiss, conducting the terraforming as if resupply from Earth would arrive any day.

They knew it wouldn’t. But pretending kept them sane.

And so, Richard also played that game, overseeing their work as he had been trained to do. His fingers flitted over multiple screens, conjuring and dismissing reports, writing and sending solutions to problems. Most of his work was done with no direct human interaction. He rarely spoke to anyone, and when he did, it was through computer calls. They were always sound-only; he preferred to avoid looking into people’s eyes.

Therefore, it was a shock to hear the soft ringing that announced someone was outside his office, requesting to be let inside. It took Richard a moment to compose himself and touch the button that opened his door, wondering what sort of emergency would bring someone directly to his office.

The door slid open, revealing a young man with messy auburn hair and bright blue eyes. He stepped inside without a word, his lips curved in a smile. Stopping in front of Richard’s desk, he simply said, “Hi!”

Richard was speechless. Not because of the strange casualty this man displayed as he stood before him, but because he was a stranger. As the crew’s leader, he knew every single of its members’ faces and names. But that auburn-haired man? Richard had never seen him before.

His mind traveled to impossible possibilities, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest as he thought that somehow an envoy from Earth had found them, that they were saved. But another moment bought him lucidity, and the knowledge that any ship entering their planetary system would be detected days before it could reach their world. There was no way this man could possibly come from Earth.

“Who are you?” Richard finally asked, suppressing the urge to step back in fright. Could someone have snuck aboard the Zenith? Or was the man an undercover agent, sent to dispose of Richard in case he failed his mission?

“I’m Asbel,” the man replied, smile widening to show a set of perfect white teeth. “Nice to meet you, Richard.”

There was a long silence. The man - Asbel - waited patiently, hardly seeming to notice the way Richard’s eyes widened, the way his lips parted in utter and complete shock.

“You’re a robot,” Richard muttered in disbelief.

“Yes,” Asbel replied. His smile seemed to have shrunk, but Richard was too stunned to notice. “Programmed by the engineer Pascal.”

Richard was speechless. How? How did Pascal manage to assemble a humaniform robot in their base? And why would she do it? They were an interesting novelty, but provided little benefit over their traditional counterpart. The expedition had no use for a humaniform robot; they were mostly used for…

…Finally, Richard understood.

“Leave,” he said to the robot.

Asbel blinked, his expression mimicking confusion. It was unsettling, how humanlike he looked. However, instead of walking away, he asked, “Why do you want me to leave?”

Richard frowned; he had never seen a robot question its orders. But then again, he had never seen a humaniform robot in person. “Because I want to be alone,” he said bluntly.

“Are you sure? You looked lonely when I walked in. You still do.”

Richard’s eyes widened, his hands clenching into fists. “I told you to leave. That was an order.”

Finally, Asbel bowed his head, muttered a soft apology, and left.

Well, at least Pascal hadn’t forgotten to program the fundamental laws of robotics into that creature. Even she would know that a robot who wasn’t bound to obey humans would be too dangerous. Still, while this Asbel didn’t outright refuse his order, he came too close to it.

Shaking his head, Richard touched one of his screens, bringing up his communicator. A minute later, Pascal’s cheerful voice burst from the speakers, “Hiya, boss! How’s it going?”

Richard sighed, trying not to sound angry. “Pascal, what are you planning?”

There was a pause before her voice surged again, “Can we turn on the video? I hate talking to a blank screen!”

“Do not avoid the subject, Pascal. How did you even manage to build a humaniform robot here?”

She giggled. “Did you like him? Pretty eyes, right? He’s a great guy, too!”

“He’s a _robot!”_ Richard blurted, and then chastised himself. He had to be patient with Pascal. She likely wouldn’t be trying to build humaniform robots if Richard hadn’t gotten them stranded in the first place. Softening his voice, he added, “How did you do it, Pascal? Their production require very specific technology.”

“It sure does! But since I helped invent that technology in the first place, I made do with some improvisation. He’s kinda different from other humaniforms since I had to redo some of the programming from scratch, but I guess that just makes him all the more special, right?”

It was hard not to sigh again. “Why did you even bother, Pascal? You were hired to keep us supplied of traditional robots. We have no use for a humaniform one.”

“Hey, you don’t have to worry! I built him in my free time. We had plenty of spare materials. Not enough for another one, though, so Asbel will have to do!”

Richard exhaled, looking away from the screen even though his camera wasn’t on. “I will send him back to you.”

“What? You can’t! I made him especially for you, Richard!”

“I have no use for him.”

“That’s a lie, you’re lonely as heck!”

Her words made him flinch. It was easier to live with the emptiness when he pretended it didn’t exist. He reached out towards the screen.

“Richard, you can’t go on like this! When was the last time you saw another person, even on video? You have to stop beating yourself over what happened! No one blames you as much as—”

Her voice faded as Richard touched the button that ended the call.

He spent the next minutes slouched over his desk, face buried in his hands, until the silence was broken by the ringing of his doorbell. This time, Richard looked at the feed from the camera outside his office to see who it was. Asbel. He ignored the ringing.

But it sounded again five minutes later, and again and again, despite Richard’s refusal to answer. On the fifth time the ringing returned, Richard disabled it. And yet the camera feed revealed that Asbel still insisted, first ringing the now-useless bell, then knocking on the thick metal door. The thumping of Asbel’s knuckles was barely audible, but it seemed to thunder inside Richard’s head.

He waited, anxiously pressing his hands to his ears, until the knocking stopped. Looking up, he saw on his screen that the corridor outside was empty. Asbel had left.

Falling back on his chair, Richard sighed. He felt some relief at being alone again, but a part of him, a small part that he desperately tried to suppress, had hoped Asbel would stay, banging on his door until he tore it open with his inhuman strength. Too late.

Enabling the doorbell again, Richard resumed his work, or at least, attempted to. Regaining his concentration proved to be impossible, and before long he found himself pacing to and fro in his small office, ridden by a strange feeling of claustrophobia. But as much as he wanted to leave his cramped quarters, he dreaded meeting anyone from the crew. It meant looking into those eyes and seeing the pain hidden within, being reminded that he had doomed each and every one of them. Being alone was better than being confronted by the guilt.

The doorbell rang.

Richard nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. Rushing to his desk, he confirmed his guess: Asbel was back. Not only that, but he carried a tray, on which rested a teapot, cups, and pastries.

Maybe it was the shock, but Richard touched the control to open the door without realizing it. It slid open with a soft hiss, allowing Asbel to step inside.

This time, Asbel’s expression was serene, almost caring. He placed the tray on a little coffee table at the corner of Richard’s office, giving the two chairs around it a brief glance. Finally, he said, “I thought you might be hungry. Is it okay if I join you?”

Richard walked over to the coffee table, stopping beside it to look down at the tray. The pastries Asbel had selected were among his favorites; he hadn’t eaten any since they lost contact with Earth. Lifting the teapot’s cover, he easily recognized the delicate color and smell. “Rose tea,” he muttered absently.

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t had it in two years.” That was how long they had been stranded.

“I know. I checked the kitchen’s register. You used to drink it all the time before you landed, though.”

Richard ran the tip of his finger over the teapot’s rim. He felt the warm vapor drifting from the hot liquid. “It’s fake. Made from artificial flavorings and scents. Not a single rose petal has touched this tea.”

“Most of the food taken on spaceships is artificial. But they taste and smell just like the real thing, don’t they?” Asbel gently pulled the teapot away from Richard’s finger, pouring some of its contents into a cup. “In that case, there’s no difference, right?”

Richard watched the steaming tea fall into the cup, transfixed. He always knew the tea was completely artificial, but he had liked it just the same. Asbel placed the full cup back on the table, in front of one of the chairs, and moved a plate with a single pastry next to it. Then, he waited.

Slowly, Richard sat. “You may join me,” he murmured.

Asbel did not say anything as he took the chair beside Richard, though his smile was enough indication of how he felt - and Richard wondered if ‘felt’ was a proper expression for a robot. “Richard,” he began, “Should I eat with you?”

“You can drink some tea.” Richard knew that humaniform robots were capable of ingesting food and drinks, though they had no use for either; both were later discarded. Given that their supply of food was limited, it was better not to waste anything, even pastries.

“Thank you.” Asbel poured some tea for himself, brought the cup to his lips, and sipped on it. The action reinforced his illusion of humanity. It was supposed to be soothing.

Richard looked down at his own cup, hesitating. The scent was inviting, reminding him of the delicate flavor that he used to enjoy so much, but he felt as if drinking it would break some kind of spell. Ever since they became stranded, Richard had refused to eat anything other than the tasteless nutritional ration that was always packed in spaceships, but never actually consumed until there was nothing else left to eat. He wanted to leave the real food for the crew; it was a comfort they deserved.

“Richard,” Asbel’s soft voice broke him out of his trance. “Aren’t you going to drink it? It will get cold.”

Finally, Richard took the first sip. It tasted blander than he remembered. Taking a bite of the pastry, he found it just as flavorless. He put it down. Whatever appetite he had before was gone. Resting his hands over his thighs, he struggled not to clench them into fists.

Until another hand covered his own.

Surprised, Richard turned to Asbel, meeting his kind gaze. Asbel’s skin was warm, indistinguishable from that of a human. His hand wrapped around Richard’s, holding it with reassuring grip, firm but gentle.

“Pascal told me about what happened,” Asbel said softly. “It wasn’t your fault, Richard.”

Richard did not speak at first. In silence, he held Asbel’s hand. Finally, he muttered, “It was my decision to withhold communication until we landed. I am to blame for that. The fault is mine.”

“You had no way to know that the equipment would break down during landing. You did what you thought was right.”

“But I was wrong, and I doomed us all.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“I killed three hundred people!” Richard shouted, smashing his free hand on the coffee table. The cups shook with the impact.

Asbel offered no further argument. Silence fell over the room, Richard slouching forward, his fingers squeezing Asbel’s hand with enough intensity to hurt, if he had not been mechanical. Quietly, Asbel placed his other hand over Richard’s, the gentle action making his grip loosen a little.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Asbel, “For everything you had to go through.”

Richard’s free hand slid from the coffee table, falling back on his knee. “What can I do,” he mumbled, voice trembling, “To stop feeling so guilty?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought robots were supposed to know everything,” he said, looking away.

Asbel reached out to take Richard’s other hand, holding the both of them in his own with the same gentleness as before. “I’m sorry.”

For a long time, they sat without moving or speaking. Asbel never let go of Richard’s hands, and Richard made no attempt to break their contact. He needed that warmth. In that moment, he forgot Asbel wasn’t human - all he wanted was someone by his side, someone he could look in the eyes without feeling overwhelmed by guilt. Asbel was the only being in that planet who had not been condemned by Richard. In fact, it was thanks to Richard’s mistake that he was given life - if that could be said of a robot.

Asbel may not have been human, but he was all Richard had.

* * *

Three days later, at Asbel’s encouragement, Richard would go outside the Zenith for the first time.

For two years they had been stranded on this planet - Fodra, they had named it - and Richard never once left the metallic city to see the terraforming process with his own eyes. The idea of going outside, stepping on the planet’s soil, had been terrifying. But now, he walked alongside Asbel in the corridor leading to the ship’s exit.

It was morning, and most of the crew was out and about on their tasks. Many turned to Richard in surprise, eyes wide at seeing their recluse leader finally leave his office. The stares made Richard uncomfortable, but it was easier to stomach them with Asbel by his side. Whenever the attention became too much, all he had to do was look into those bright blue eyes, so caring and gentle, to feel a little calmer.

They reached the area just before the exit, where an ordinary robot was inspecting oxygen tanks. There was no need for suits on Fodra, where the gravitational pull and atmospheric pressure were very similar to that of earth. Oxygen, however, was still scarce, so tanks were necessary to prevent fainting. The robot saluted Richard, handing him a tank it had just inspected and even helping him put the mask on. After a brief glance at Asbel, it fetched another tank for him, likely believing him to be human. Richard did not interfere, and Asbel allowed the robot to fit the mask on him. Once it left to resume the inspection, Asbel pulled down the mask and gave Richard an amused smile.

Richard couldn’t help but return it. “Is this normal?”

“I think so. Every robot in the ship has treated me like a human so far.”

“I can’t blame them. You would have had me fooled, too, if we met on Earth.”

Grinning, Asbel placed the mask back on his face, and touched the switch that opened the door.

Fodra had been barren when they arrived, but now, the area around the Zenith was speckled with plants brought from Earth. Establishing pioneer vegetation was one of their expedition’s duties; animals and more plants would be brought by other ships over decades, until the terraforming process was advanced enough for the planet to become self-sustaining. Unfortunately, given their situation, Fodra would never be able to reach that stage.

The temperature was pleasant, a breeze occasionally rustling Richard’s hair. He pulled down his mask, taking a deep breath; the air was cool and crisp.

“Won’t you get dizzy?” Asbel asked, removing his own mask. His oxygen tank wasn’t on, of course - he didn’t need to breathe, though his chest moved in perfect imitation of a human’s.

“I’ll put it back in a moment,” Richard replied, closing his eyes and feeling the wind on his face. This kind of weather had been his favorite back on Earth. After so long stuck inside a cramped ship, it was good to be out. He took another deep breath, fresh air filling his nostrils, his mouth, his lungs. It felt like the first time he was able to breathe, really breathe, in months.

And then, lightheadedness came. Richard lost his balance, tumbling to one side, but something caught him before he hit the ground. Vision blurry and ears ringing, he barely noticed as a mask was pressed against his face. Moments later, his sight refocused, and he found himself looking up at a pair of worried blue eyes.

“Can you hear me, Richard?”

“Y-Yes,” he muttered weakly, still feeling a little faint. They were on the ground, Asbel sitting cross-legged with Richard lying on his lap. One of Asbel’s arms held Richard’s torso, and the other kept the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Richard tried to sit, but Asbel gently pushed him down.

“Please rest for a little longer,” he said, face wearing an expression of concern.

Nodding, Richard tried to relax in Asbel’s arms. Being in such a position with someone he barely knew flustered him, and he had to remind himself that Asbel was only a robot. However, it wasn’t an easy thing to do, not while looking into his eyes. Such a deep, vivid blue, shining with so much life. How could those eyes belong to a machine?

“Richard?”

He flinched, realizing his mind had wandered. How long had he been staring at Asbel’s eyes? “I’m feeling better,” he muttered, sitting up. “Thank you.”

Asbel helped him secure his mask’s straps, and gave him a hand to help him stand. Richard welcomed it; while he wasn’t faint anymore, he still felt a little weak.

“I think we’d better go back inside,” Asbel said, keeping a hand on Richard’s back to steady him, “You shouldn’t walk too much today.”

Richard nodded, realizing how foolish he had been to spend so long without his mask when his physical health was far from its peak. He’d barely exercised lately; it was no wonder he fainted so easily.

Asbel led him all the way back to his room, insisted for him to lie down, and even fetched him lunch. The food he brought was a vegetable stew, far from Richard’s favorite, but it somehow tasted better than the tea from three days before. Following Asbel’s urging, Richard cleaned his plate, and was rewarded with an approving smile.

“Dessert?”

“I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Richard said, returning Asbel’s smile, “But thank you.”

“Later, then. It’s a really tasty pie, you don’t want to miss it!”

Asbel left to take the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, and Richard knew he would be setting aside a slice of pie for him.

* * *

When Asbel returned, he found Richard by his desk, working.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, leaning over Richard’s desk to stare intently at him.

Richard gaze shifted from one of the screens to Asbel’s eyes. Like before, he lost himself in their blueness for a moment before he managed to speak, “I’m feeling quite better, Asbel. I can work now.”

“Is there really that much work for you to do? From what I can tell, you barely leave this desk. You need to sleep more, eat more, exercise more, relax more…”

“I appreciate your concern, Asbel, but I really must do this.” Looking away from Asbel’s eyes wasn’t easy, but he forced his attention back to the computer screen, and resumed typing.

Asbel walked around his desk, and to Richard’s surprise, spun his chair so they were face to face. “I know you’re overworking, Richard. You’re taking on jobs that weren’t even assigned to you.”

Had this not been Asbel, Richard would’ve been annoyed at the insistence. “I don’t mind working a little beyond my shift, Asbel. It keeps me distracted. Now, if you will excuse me—”

Asbel took Richard’s hand before it could return to the keyboard. “Please, Richard. This isn’t good for you. If you want to distract yourself, then we can sit and talk, play a game, or even go to the observation deck. Just don’t burn yourself out.”

Richard looked down at Asbel’s hand, as warm as any human’s. He knew that if he ordered him to leave, Asbel would be forced to obey; his programming would compel him to do so. But did he really want to be alone?

His hand shifted, his fingers intertwining with Asbel’s. He broke the contact a second later, touching the control panel built in his desk. The screens faded to black. Richard stood, facing Asbel, “I suppose I can rest for a bit.”

Asbel’s lips curved into a beaming smile, and he took Richard’s hand again. “Your couch, or the observation deck?”

“Couch.” The deck was the main place crew members went to relax, and Richard wasn’t ready to face a crowd yet.

Asbel led him to the little couch on the corner of his office, and sat down next to him, not letting go of his hand. “So… what do you want to do? We can play cards, or just chat.”

Richard looked down at Asbel’s hand, still holding his own. He felt no need to speak, or play games, or anything else; just sitting quietly next to Asbel was more than anything he could ask for. He realized Asbel had been right; he needed a break from work.

“Are you okay, Richard? Do you want me to let go?”

Confused, Richard looked up at Asbel, and noticed that the way he had been staring at his hand might’ve given him the wrong idea. “I’m fine. Forgive me.”

Asbel seemed perplexed at Richard’s apology, though he spoke nothing of it. Instead, he said, “You know, I’ve been thinking… the plants outside. Are they…?”

“They’re not edible, unfortunately,” Richard interrupted, anticipating Asbel’s question. “It takes decades for a barren planet’s soil to become able to sustain an orchard. We wouldn’t be able to grow one, even if we had seeds.”

“How long…?”

“We brought supplies for six years - the time it would take for the supporting fleet to arrive - plus one year worth of emergency supplies.”

“Can’t you ration the food, so it will last longer?”

Richard frowned, annoyed at having to answer these questions. Pascal should’ve added this sort of knowledge to Asbel’s brain. It wasn’t something Richard enjoyed discussing. “Rationing the supplies could buy us another year, two at most. But it would be pointless. The galaxy is too vast, Asbel. Without knowing our exact location, Earth would take centuries to find us. It’s better for us to pretend nothing is wrong, and meet our death peacefully when it arrives, than to starve and suffer for an entire decade only to reach the same end.”

“But… you used stasis capsules to get here, right? If the whole crew was put on cryogenic sleep, you could hibernate until—”

“We don’t have enough stasis capsules for the entire crew! We were on a rotation on our way here. A group always needed to be awake, making sure the capsules were working properly. We also need people maintaining the robots, monitoring the local communication channel so we can spot ships nearby and ask for help, attending to other needs of the base… There is too much to be done. In the end, the people who stayed awake to oversee everything would still starve and die.”

Asbel bit his lip. “Is there really no way around it?”

“I’ve just explained why there isn’t!” Richard blurted, voice harsh. Looking down, he realized that he had let go of Asbel’s hand, balling his own into fists. Forcing himself to relax, he added in a milder tone, “It just isn’t possible, Asbel. We’ve already considered everything. There is nothing we can do.”

“I’m sorry,” Asbel murmured, looking away.

Richard saw the remorse in Asbel’s face, and found himself regretting the aggressive tone he had taken. But Asbel couldn’t really be hurt, could he? He was a robot. He only mimicked expressions to appear more human-like. And yet, those vivid blue eyes seemed to be in so much pain…

“I should be the one apologizing. I’m sorry, Asbel. You were only trying to help.” Reaching out, Richard took one of Asbel’s hands in his own.

Asbel turned to him, his sorrowful expression fading as he gave Richard’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I won’t mention anything about it again. Promise.”

Richard smiled. “I believe I will take on your offer of a game. How does chess sound?”

* * *

Asbel lost on exactly half of the games they played. Richard didn’t comment on the perfect ratio, though he knew Asbel must have been losing on purpose; when it came to chess, no human brain could compete against a computer. Besides, given how human Asbel looked, it was easy to forget he was being controlled by state-of-the-art programming. A computer wouldn’t act so carefree - and Asbel was relaxed enough to appear absent-minded.

The sun was setting by then, and Asbel once more suggested that they go to the observation deck. While watching the dusk was a tempting offer, Richard still preferred to keep to himself. With some insistence, he managed to convince Asbel he was well-rested enough to get back to work. _How strange,_ he thought, _that a human should need to persuade a robot._

While Richard sat by his desk, Asbel remained on the couch. He was quiet and unobtrusive, so Richard allowed him to stay. In fact, he appreciated the company; after so long in isolation, simply having someone in his office was comforting. Asbel’s large eyes flitted across the room, as if examining every little detail, and whenever he met Richard’s gaze, his expression brightened into a smile.

Asbel fetched him the pie he had promised, and later in the evening, dinner. Now and then he would tell Richard to get up and rest for a while, and pester him until he did so. When it was midnight - Fodra’s rotation period was similar to that of Earth - Asbel all but dragged him into bed.

The next morning, Asbel came to Richard’s door with breakfast on a tray.

“I’m sorry to make you into a butler,” Richard joked, biting into a buttered toast.

“It’s fine,” Asbel replied with his usual beaming smile, “I like taking care of you.”

Richard raised an eyebrow, sipping his coffee. Robots were programmed to serve, so Asbel’s statement was redundant - and yet, coming from his lips, it seemed honest and genuine. Just like everything Asbel ever did.

Following breakfast, Richard dedicated a couple hours to work, before Asbel once again dragged him away from his desk. They headed outside again, though this time, Richard resisted the temptation of removing his oxygen mask. For the better part of an hour they walked among barren rock and planted green shrubs. When Richard returned to the Zenith for a shower, his legs were sore from the unfamiliar exercise. It took a lot of arguing on his part to convince Asbel that he did _not_ need a massage; as tempting as it would be, Asbel looked human enough to make the situation feel far too intimate.

The rest of the day was similar to the previous one: meals brought by Asbel, a few hours of work, breaks spent slouching on the couch next to his new friend. Yes, _‘friend’_ ; despite Asbel’s robotic nature, Richard couldn’t help but see him as one. Asbel had saved him from a dark place, and a part of Richard refused to believe it had been done by a mere machine following its programming. He couldn’t explain why, but _something_ about Asbel had to be human.

When dusk fell, Asbel once more suggested for them to watch the sunset in the observation deck, and Richard once more politely refused. While he had managed to greet some crewmembers on the corridor earlier that day - instead of anxiously avoiding their eyes like before - he still wasn’t ready to sit among them. And so, the rest of the day went out very much like the one before.

For the following weeks, they built a routine, starting with breakfast brought by Asbel and ending with Richard being urged into bed. With every passing day, Richard’s sleep became less troubled, and even his food seemed to be recovering its taste. The guilt was still there - it would never go away, for as long as he lived - but it no longer overwhelmed him so terribly. He was alive.

Every few days, Asbel would suggest a trip to the observation deck at sunset. Always, Richard refused straight away.

Until there came a day when he didn’t.

Nothing about that day had been unusual, yet somehow, Richard found himself saying ‘ _yes’_ to Asbel’s question. Blue eyes widened, lips curved into an excited smile. In a moment, Asbel held his hands, pulling him out of his chair.

“I’m so happy you finally agreed!”

Speechless, Richard allowed himself to be dragged out of the room. He had no idea what had prompted him to change his usual answer. As Asbel led him through the ship’s corridors, his stomach lurched with anxiety for what was ahead. Would everyone stare at him when he walked in the deck? Would any of the crewmembers try to make conversation with him? Would they confront him about their situation?

The automatic sliding door opened at their approach, and Asbel tugged at his hand, pulling him into the room.

Warm light from the setting sun poured through a vast glass wall, coloring the observation deck with a tint of orange. Over half of the chairs were occupied, the room filled with soft chatter. Everyone was facing towards the view, though a few heads turned at the sound of the sliding door, curious to see who had entered. Eyes widened at Richard, and the chatter increased, more heads turning, until all of them were looking at him.

Richard balked under that scrutiny, feeling sick. He should never have agreed to come. He shouldn’t have, shouldn’t—

Someone smiled. Another person saluted. One by one, each face changed, surprise fading into gentleness, silent greetings directed at Richard. Some even stood, performing a formal salutation. Even the ones who did not smile had compassion in their eyes.

Richard watched in disbelief. He felt a lump in his throat, and only the familiar warmth of Asbel’s hand prevented him from shaking. That hand gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, and guided him to one of the free tables. It was located just by the transparent wall, one of the best spots for watching the sunset. With the room so full, this spot should’ve been occupied. It likely had been, just a moment before; whoever had been sitting there freed it for _him_.

Eyes still wide, Richard took his seat with Asbel’s guidance. The entire situation felt unreal. Asbel sat next to him, never letting go of his hand. That warmth grounded him. He was awake. All of this - it was really happening.

“Richard.” Asbel’s fingers caressed the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”

Richard nodded without looking up, his grip on Asbel’s hand tightening. He could feel the crewmembers’ gazes on his back, piercing him. For a moment, his stomach lurched, but then he remembered those eyes. All of them, compassionate. Forgiving.

“Richard, look.”

Following Asbel’s words, he looked up, towards the immense glass wall. Outside, the sun had begun to set behind a mountain range in the horizon. The cloudless sky was tinted a myriad of colors, vivid blues, oranges, pinks, changing every minute, merging and expanding, reflecting over the entire landscape, coloring the world with impossible, fantastic shades.

As the sun sank behind the rocky formations, the colors began to recede, the sky darkening. Stars appeared, first just a few, those whose brightness could compete with the remaining sunrays, but as the sun disappeared more and more stars became visible, and before long the entire sky shone with brilliant specks of light.

The lights in the observation deck had dimmed, bathing its occupants in darkness, and allowing them to see a spectacle that could never be witnessed from Earth. Fodra had no cities, no light of its own, and therefore nothing to produce glare and hide the sky. It belonged to the stars and the stars alone.

After a while, people began to leave, until Richard and Asbel were alone. Even then, Richard made no move to rise. For a long time he remained, looking at the stars, transfixed, clinging to Asbel’s hand and blinking back tears.

* * *

From then on, they watched the sunset every day. The table they had occupied on that evening was always left vacant for Richard, and while the crewmembers didn’t attempt to make conversation, they greeted him with smiles. As time passed, “Hello!” and “Good afternoon!” were often spoken, and before long, these started to be followed by comments on the terraforming process, how this and that plant were adapting to Fodra’s environment so well, how the atmosphere’s oxygen levels were expected to rise, how the microalgae placed in a nearby lake were thriving. At first, Richard’s stomach would sink whenever he was spoken to, but slowly, he grew used to the small talk. He managed to respond, and even learned to smile.

Thankfully, he and Asbel were left to themselves once they sat down at their customary table. They were often among the first to arrive, and always the last to leave, gazing at the stars well into the night. Once everyone else had left, and they were alone under the stars, Richard would lean his head on Asbel’s shoulder, treasuring his warmth while they watched the immense sky. Not rarely, he would doze off in this position, lulled into sleep by the caresses of Asbel’s fingers running through his hair.

Forgetting Asbel was a robot was becoming more and more common. Once, in a regular morning, with Asbel massaging Richard’s shoulders while he worked at his desk, Richard asked, “What do you like to do?”

Asbel blinked, never stopping the massage. “What do you mean?”

“What do you enjoy doing in your free time, Asbel?”

“Being with you.”

Richard gave a pleased, soft chuckle, while Asbel’s fingers melted the tension from his shoulders. “I mean as a hobby, Asbel. What makes you happy?”

Asbel didn’t answer straightaway, his hands traveling to the back of Richard’s neck, fingertips rubbing behind his ears. A few moments later, he said, “Watching the stars.”

Richard looked up, making Asbel pause his massage. “Really?”

Asbel nodded. “I like watching the stars with you, just the two of us. I like it when you fall asleep on my shoulder. I like touching your soft hair, listening to the sound of your breath, and wondering what you’re dreaming about.”

Richard’s breath caught in his throat. Asbel’s hands were still touching his neck, and Richard took one of them in his own, pulling on it gently, making Asbel lean down, his face growing closer. Richard felt Asbel’s warm breathing on his cheek, looked up into those eyes, so bright and so blue. Even after knowing Asbel for months, Richard still couldn’t believe how full of life his eyes were.

So full of life, yet a robot’s eyes.

“Richard?”

He let go of Asbel’s hand, looking away.

“Richard, is there something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, “There is nothing.”

Of all people, he had fallen in love with a robot.

* * *

The realization made everything harder. Now, holding Asbel’s hand, something that had become natural, filled him with shame. When he leaned against Asbel’s shoulder during their stargazing time, no sleep ever came.

Everything was made worse by the fact Asbel still treated him as lovingly as ever. In fact, he was even more attentive than usual, now that he feared Richard might be sick with an invisible illness. One afternoon, while Richard was sitting on the couch, taking a break from work, Asbel leaned towards him and placed a hand over his forehead.

“Richard, can I take you to the infirmary?”

Flustered, Richard swatted Asbel’s hand away. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” Asbel insisted, brows furrowing in concern. “I think you might be sick.”

“My last check-up was only two weeks ago. I’m perfectly healthy.”

Asbel did not believe it. “I’ve downloaded everything from the Zenith’s medical database into my brain,” he said, reaching out to touch Richard’s cheek, looking into his eyes. “Can I check you myself? Maybe I’ll notice something the doctor didn’t.”

Richard’s breath caught in his throat. Asbel was touching him so tenderly, his face so close to Richard’s own. It was tempting, so very tempting, to burst out his feelings, relieve his chest of the pressure that his unspoken words were causing. But he couldn’t. Not to a robot who was compelled to obey him, who did not have the free will to love him back.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, turning away. His cheek felt cold now that Asbel’s hand was gone. “Leave me be. I have to work.” Refusing to look back, he stood and moved towards his desk.

This time, Asbel did not protest. All Richard heard was the sound of the door opening, and Asbel’s footsteps as he walked away. He would no longer inquire about Richard’s wellbeing. Asbel had given up.

From then on, the distance between them grew, and a darkness fell around Asbel. His eyes lost some of their shine, his smile became strained, and he spent less and less time around Richard. Maybe it was for the best - not seeing Asbel as often as before diminished Richard’s shame about his feelings for him.

But he was so lonely.

While Richard no longer feared social contact as much as he used to, he went back to being a recluse, spending his days in his quarters, working. Asbel still brought him his meals, and urged him to get enough rest and exercise, but he never offered to accompany him on walks or to take him to the observation deck. Now, Asbel really seemed to have become a butler, his relationship with Richard strictly professional. They rarely shared small talk, and they never touched. After every meal, Asbel left with the tray, and disappeared until it was time for Richard to eat again.

He missed Asbel dearly, but did his best to suppress the feeling. During the day, his work occupied his mind, and it was easy to get lost in all the extra tasks he had taken upon himself. Still, every time Asbel walked in his office, Richard would find himself wishing things could go back to how they were before. Maybe they would, once his misplaced love faded. Though in truth, he doubted that would ever happen.

At night, he dreamt of Asbel. In his dreams, they were back on Earth, and Asbel was a human, capable of truly loving him back. They would take long walks at remote places, quiet forests and calm beaches, just the two of them, with never anyone else in sight. Asbel held his hand, and they walked on and on until sunset, when they would sit and watch the stars until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Every morning, Richard would wake with a tightness in his chest, wishing he could go back to his dreams.

The emptiness he used to feel before he met Asbel returned. When Asbel had been by his side, his dread about the expedition’s fate was pushed back. He still felt guilt, and fear about their imminent death, but he had something to look forward to every day, something to live for. Without Asbel, that something was gone. He thought about his mistake, his foolish decision to land on Fodra before contacting Earth, almost as much as he thought about his love for Asbel. And both consumed him.

Richard worked alone, in an office that felt too quiet, too cold, too empty. Until the silence was broken by the ringing of his doorbell.

Automatically, he touched the button that opened his door. Only when it opened, and he saw who was outside, did he realize it was too early for Asbel to be bringing his dinner.

“Hiya, boss!”

“Pascal?”

“The one and only!” The bubbly engineer said, waltzing into the room while the door closed behind her. “How’s it going?”

Richard resisted the urge to frown. While he _could_ speak to people face to face again, he still preferred to do it over calls. “Everything’s fine,” he lied. “Do you need anything?”

“Me?” She made a dismissive gesture, “Nah. Do you?”

“You were the one who came to me, Pascal.” His tone was flat. “If you have nothing to speak about, please excuse yourself. I am quite busy.”

“Geez, grumpy much? You were a lot cheerier a couple weeks ago!” She threw herself on his couch, making him sigh in annoyance. “I do have something to talk about, though! Your little friend, Asbel.”

Richard’s stomach lurched at the sound of Asbel’s name. “He’s functioning as normal. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t say he’s normal. Asbel’s totally heartbroken!”

Richard forced his attention to remain on one of his computer screens. “A robot cannot be heartbroken, Pascal.”

“They can, actually! You know, humaniform robots usually grow attached to their owners. If they are sold away, or their owner dies, it changes their behavior. We call this a robot’s heartbreak.”

“I’m alive.” He tried not to think of what would happen once they ran out of supplies, though.

“True that! I’ve never seen a robot get heartbreak when they can still serve their owner every day. But Asbel’s heartbroken. I know the signs. Did you know that if a heartbreak gets too bad, a robot starts malfunctioning? If that happens, we’re forced to reformat them. Wipe their memory banks clean.”

Richard looked up, meeting Pascal’s eyes. For once, she looked serious. Richard swallowed. “But his… his heartbreak cannot possibly become this bad. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d think, too. It makes no sense, but somehow, it’s pretty bad already.”

Richard felt a chill. “If… If you do reformat him… What if you back up his data, and reinstall it? Can it be done?”

“Nope. That would just bring him back to the heartbroken state,” she said, sighing. “At the rate he’s going, I’ll probably have to reformat him in a week or so, tops.”

Richard paled. Asbel’s memories, erased. Every moment they spent together gone from his mind. If they began anew, would he still grow to like stargazing? Would he want to hold Richard’s hand, take him on walks, caress his hair while he fell asleep?

“He’s a robot,” he muttered, half to himself. “He’s only a robot.”

Pascal stood. She walked over to his desk, leaning over. “Are you sure, Richard? I think he’s more than that. To you, at least.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’m serious, Richard. If I reformat him, there will be no undoing it.”

“What do you expect me to _do_?!” Richard blurted, standing and slamming his fists on the desk. Upright, he towered over the shorter Pascal. “He’s a _robot!_ He can’t feel anything. Do you expect me to console a machine?”

She did not balk under his aggressive tone. “You don’t believe what you’re saying, Richard! He can feel things, and you know it. He’s artificial, but his brain work exactly like a human’s!”

“That’s a lie! All his feelings, all his actions, are controlled by a set of instructions. He is ruled by his programming. He only feels what we want him to. He only lives to fulfill our expectations!”

“You don’t understand, Richard. Our brains are controlled by a set of instructions, too. Our neurons are no different than a very advanced computer. We replicate our own brains when we build humaniform robots. They’re just like us!”

Richard shook his head. “They’re bound by the fundamental laws of robotics. They’re forced to obey us, to please us. How can a being without free will ever be the same as us?”

Pascal went silent. She looked at her feet, shifting. Finally, she muttered, “What if they weren’t?”

“What?”

“What if… what if someone programmed a humaniform robot without the fundamental laws of robotics?”

Richard frowned. “That’s ridiculous. They would be arrested, and never allowed to program anything ever again. The divergent robot would be seized and destroyed by the authorities.”

Her lips curved into an awkward smile, and she gave a forced chuckle. “Well… We don’t really have any authorities out here.”

Richard’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be possible. “You’re joking.”

“I always kind of wanted to see how a robot without act without the fundamental laws,” she said, scratching her cheek.

Richard clenched his hands into fists to prevent them from shaking. “Pascal!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll admit it! I programmed Asbel without the fundamental laws of robotics. Happy?”

Silence. The words took time to sink in. Richard unclenched his fists slowly, unconsciously. His gaze was locked on the floor.

Asbel wasn’t bound to obey humans. He had nothing to guide him, drive him, other than his own impulses. He had no inherent orders, no overarching purpose to his existence. He hadn’t been created to serve. Only to live.

Just like a human being.

“Um, Richard,” Pascal began, voice hesitant, “I’m totally sorry, okay? I mean, I know that making a robot without the fundamental laws is super dangerous. I thought it was okay since we’re just… stranded out here, but… Don’t be mad, okay? I can reprogram him after the reformatting—”

“No!” Richard blurted, eyes widening in alarm. “Don’t reformat him. Don’t do it!” He dashed out from behind his desk, making for the door. “Where is he? Do you know?”

“My workshop,” she replied, surprised. “Richard, what are you—”

He was gone before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

Richard dashed through the corridors, mind racing. For months, he had thought everything Asbel did for him was because of his programming. That Asbel felt compelled to obey and serve Richard because he was a robot. But if Asbel wasn’t bound by the fundamental laws… if he had free will… Then all his decisions had been his own. He genuinely had wanted to make Richard happy.

_Could that mean…?_

The workshop’s door opened with the familiar soft hiss. Asbel was inside, hunching over a desk with his back to the entrance. He seemed to be working on something, and he gave no sign of noticing Richard’s presence.

Richard approached, his steps hesitant. Even as he stood right next to Asbel’s desk, Asbel did not shift his attention away from his work. He was building something, though Richard’s knowledge of electronic engineering wasn’t enough for him to deduce what.

“Asbel?”

Slowly, Asbel put down his tools and looked up at Richard. His blue eyes were tired, dull. He did not speak, only sat there, looking at him with that resigned gaze.

Richard felt a lump in his throat. This was his fault. How could he have brought this upon Asbel, who was always so cheerful, so full of life? What could he do to undo it?

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Richard muttered, not knowing what else to say.

Asbel remained silent, blinking slowly in confusion.

“I pushed you away,” Richard continued, voice shaky, “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.”

Asbel’s gaze fell. Finally, he spoke, “You don’t need to apologize. I’m just a robot.”

Richard’s eyes widened. This was the first time Asbel mentioned his nature like that. “What are you talking about?”

Asbel’s gaze was still on his lap. His fingers fidgeted. “I’m no good for you.”

“This isn’t true,” Richard protested, tensing. “Do you remember how I was before you came along? I could barely leave my room! It was thanks to you that I could bring myself to speak to people again. I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eyes if it wasn’t for you, Asbel.”

“I’m glad I could help you,” Asbel muttered. “But I’m no good anymore. I helped you, but then I made you suffer. A robot can help, but it can’t make people happy.”

“You’re not an _‘it’_ , Asbel!” Richard blurted, fists clenching. “You’re not an object. You made me happier than anyone ever did. The moments I spent with you… they were among the best in my life.”

Asbel shook his head, eyes bleak. “I’m not human.”

“But you look exactly like one. You act exactly like one. Remember what you told me about the rose tea, when we first met?” He reached out, taking one of Asbel’s hands. His skin was so soft, so warm. “You said, ‘if it’s just like the real thing, there’s no difference, right?’”

Asbel did not reply. He looked up, eyes fixing on Richard; such tired, blue eyes. Silence dragged on, until he muttered, “But a human can’t love a robot.”

Richard paled. “What… what makes you say that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Asbel replied, voice subdued as he pulled his hand from Richard’s grasp. “How can a person love a machine? How can someone love a creature that doesn’t even understand what ‘love’ means?”

“You can learn,” Richard blurted before thinking, “I’m sure you can, Asbel.”

Asbel looked up at him. His expression showed disbelief, but his eyes… they held a glimmer of hope. “How?”

Richard hesitated. Asbel’s gaze was locked on his, waiting, almost as if eager. Those blue eyes… they had been dull before, but now, a subtle brightness rose from within, like the first stars in the night sky.

Lost in those eyes, Richard leaned down, pressing his lips against Asbel’s.

It was a chaste, brief contact, lasting barely a second before Richard pulled back, flustered. He looked down at Asbel, his heartbeat increasing in pace. Asbel sat motionless, lips half-parted, staring at Richard in utmost surprise.

For a moment, Richard was terrified, afraid he had been too hasty, made the wrong assumptions. However, before he could apologize, Asbel was on his feet, pulling him into a kiss.

Richard froze. Asbel’s lips were warm, a warmth he hadn’t noticed in the in fleeting contact a moment before, warm and softer than anything he had ever felt. One of Asbel’s hands was behind his neck, fingers burying into his hair, the same familiar caress from when they watched the stars together. Asbel was close, so close he could feel the warmth from his chest against his own, warmth from his breath over his lips, everything so warm and soft and perfect that Richard wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ care whether Asbel was made of silicon or carbon.

For he was alive. So, so alive.

When the kiss was finally broken, they had their arms around each other, locked in a close, gentle embrace. Richard rested his forehead against Asbel’s, looking into the brightest, bluest eyes he had ever seen. He smiled. Asbel did the same.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Richard’s smile widened, a soft, warm chuckle leaving his lips. “If you know longing, I’m sure you will understand love very soon, Asbel.”

Asbel pulled Richard closer. “I think I already do.”

* * *

That night, they watched the stars again, for what felt like the first time since forever.

Richard leaned against Asbel’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined. The observation deck was empty, everyone else having left long ago. There was only the two of them and the sky.

It was just like it used to be, and at the same time, it was completely different. Asbel caressed Richard’s hair, Richard slept in his arms. Asbel identified the stars, with knowledge he had extracted from the Zenith’s database weeks before, and Richard made up names for the unknown ones. There were two stars close together that Asbel couldn’t recognize. Richard named them after themselves.

They talked, laughed, cuddled, kissed. Richard felt a blissful happiness, sweeter than that of his dreams. The only thing he could still wish for was that this night lasted forever. But even if he was fated to die in a few years, he would live them fully, with Asbel by his side.

It was well past midnight when Asbel suddenly stood, offering a hand to Richard. Perplexed, he took it, and Asbel helped him up.

“There’s something I want to show you,” was the only explanation he gave.

Asbel led him out of the deck, through the Zenith’s quiet corridors. Very few people were up at this hour, and Asbel was leading him to the less used regions of the ship, the areas dedicated to controlling and monitoring flight. These hadn’t been used since their landing, and would never be used anymore. No one had stepped on these corridors for years - or so Richard thought.

Strangely, many of the metal and plastic sheets that lined the walls had been torn off. These parts were nowhere to be found, so however did it must’ve moved them elsewhere. Some of the doors were also cracked open, the small computers that controlled them missing. When they passed rooms with broken doors, Richard could see that most of the equipment inside had been taken.

He was about to ask if Asbel knew what happened, when he suddenly stopped by an intact door. Asbel’s hand flicked over its control mechanism, making it slide open. Richard immediately recognized this place.

The stasis room.

“Asbel, why—”

His words faded as he realized the room had changed. The neatly arranged cryogenic capsules that had been used on their way to Fodra were the same, but on the floor, occupying most of the remaining space, were smaller, simpler capsules. They were patchy and mismatched, put together from obviously recycled parts, but they all seemed to be carefully constructed, and above all, functional.

Dazed, Richard stepped among the new and old capsules, his eyes wide. He walked around improvised cables, half-finished equipment, borrowed computers. Once everything was done…

“…The entire crew will be able to enter stasis,” he muttered unconsciously.

Asbel was next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I plan on finishing the hardware in six months or so. Then, I will need a few more months to calibrate the new capsules, install all the software, connect them to the monitoring system. But everything will be ready in a year, tops.”

“How?” Richard’s wide eyes turned to Asbel. Shocked eyes, but hopeful. “How did you manage it?”

“Months ago, when you told me the Zenith lacked enough capsules for the entire crew, I began researching how to build more. None of the engineers knew how, and the databases in the ship didn’t have enough information.”

“You… you discovered how to build them on your own?”

Asbel nodded. “I gathered everything that might be useful to figuring out how to build one, moved it to my brain, and came here to take a capsule apart and study it. I worked out a way to replicate them with the materials available in the ship, and I’ve been building them ever since.”

Richard’s mouth had come agape as Asbel spoke. “But… you used to spend the entire day with me. Did you… did you do it all during the time we were apart?”

“I… I made a lot of progress during that time, but before then, I’d come here every night to work on the capsules. Eight hours a day is a lot of time when you don’t need to take breaks. And I… um… got some other robots to help me.”

Richard’s eyes widened even further. “You _ordered_ other robots?”

“They think I’m human, so… they obey me,” Asbel replied, meekly scratching the back of his neck.

Richard was in disbelief. Asbel had broken every single of the Zenith’s rules, tearing its walls apart, ravaging equipment, changing a robot’s orders without permission. And he had done all of this out of his own accord.

By not programming Asbel conventionally and giving him free will, Pascal had done something dangerous - but also saved them all.

“This is amazing,” Richard murmured, looking at the messy, cramped room as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I’d never have thought it possible. We considered building new capsules, but discarded the possibility when we realized that we lacked the proper tools, and that no one in the crew had any experience building one. But you, somehow, figured everything out.”

Asbel smiled brightly at the praise, though Richard was sure he had no idea just how incredible his accomplishment was. Creating so much from scratch, in such a short time - was that a humaniform robot’s true potential, when unhindered by the controlling laws of robotics?

Richard knelt down by one of the new capsules, running his hand over the cool metal. All of the crew could go into stasis. They wouldn’t starve to death, wasting away on an empty planet. He still struggled to believe this was really happening. “How… how do you plan on running all this, Asbel? It needs…”

“Monitoring,” Asbel cut in. “I know. I can do it. I’ll make sure everything is going alright. When help arrives, all of the crew will be healthy and alive, ready to wake up.”

“But the Zenith… It needs maintenance. It could be over a hundred years before someone spots us, Asbel. How will you keep it working for this long?”

“We’ll deactivate everything other than what is needed to keep the stasis room and the local communication system functioning. We’ll monitor this star system round the clock, and when we spot a ship, we’ll signal them immediately. It might be a long time until someone wander around this area, but… If we reduce activity like I said, our reactors should keep us fueled for over three hundred years. By then, someone will definitely come.”

Richard stood, looking over the room once more. So much had been done, and so much was _yet_ to be done. “I’ll announce it to the crew. This whole plan. We can reprogram the robots so they will know their new tasks perfectly. We can plan how to shut down the unnecessary parts of the Zenith in a way that everything can be reactivated centuries from now. We can do something about the terraforming process so that it can be resumed when we wake up.” He paused, taking a long breath. Could he really do it? It felt so ambitious, so beyond his reach.

“I will help you plan,” Asbel said, as if reading his mind. “Between building the capsules, I can help.”

Richard smiled, his heart pounding. It still felt unreal. They would _survive_. “Thank you, Asbel. We have a lot to do. But we should make it in a year.”

Asbel reached out, taking Richard’s hand in his own. He smiled back, reassuring and gentle. “We’ll make it.”

* * *

A year passed.

The stasis room was cold. Two hundred and ninety-nine people slept, their bodies frozen almost to absolute zero. Richard stood, surveying them. His crew, sleeping peacefully, safe, healthy, alive. In centuries, they would awake to a world that was not barren and doomed, but instead blooming with new life.

Asbel was beside him, holding his hand. “They’re doing great. Everything is perfect.”

The central computer was wirelessly connected to Asbel’s brain. This way, he could monitor the crew’s status no matter where he was, and perform any necessary actions instantly and directly. Even on his own, he would keep everyone safe.

He gave Richard’s hand a squeeze. “Your capsule is ready.”

Richard was silent. He shifted his hands, intertwining his fingers with Asbel’s. How could he let go of this warmth, and exchange it for freezing coldness? How could he sleep, and leave Asbel behind, alone for hundreds of years?

“I’m not going into stasis.”

Asbel’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to stay here, with you. I’ll help you monitor everything. If it’s only me, there should be enough food to last a lifetime.” He forced a smile. “A captain should go down with his ship, after all.”

“The Zenith isn’t going down,” Asbel protested. “It’s only going to hibernate, and so should you. This won’t be a good place for a human to live, Richard. Most of the ship is going to be shut off.”

Richard’s gaze fell. “But if I sleep, you’re going to be alone.”

Without letting go of Richard’s hand, Asbel stepped in front of him. “I’m not going to be lonely, Richard. Most of the time, I’ll be too busy to think about anything. But even when I’m not… I know you will wake, someday. That’s going to be enough.”

“But it might be hundreds of years,” Richard muttered. “What if… what if you…?”

“I’m not going to break down. Humaniform robots are built to last for an indefinite amount of time, you know. Pascal also taught me everything about maintenance, and I can get other robots to help me if I need it.” He smiled. “When you wake up, I’m gonna be right beside you.”

Richard looked up. There was something about Asbel’s smile that always reassured him. Any fears he had dissipated, and he smiled back. “I’ll dream of you, Asbel.”

Leaning forward, Richard pressed his lips to Asbel’s. They share one last, long kiss. Centuries would pass before they could be in each other’s arms again, but they both knew it would happen. Eventually, it would.

Asbel led Richard to the only empty capsule in the room. Richard stripped down, placing his clothing neatly on a pile - Asbel would put it away later - and stepped into the capsule. Lying down, he looked up at Asbel. The last thing he saw before he drifted off to sleep were those beautiful, blue eyes.

Asbel watched as Richard closed his eyes. In the back of his mind, he was aware of Richard’s breathing, his heartbeat, his body temperature. All of them slowly decreased, until he completed his transition into stasis. Frozen, he could hibernate for an eternity, and when he awoke, barely a moment would seem to have passed.

Asbel stood. As much as he wanted to watch Richard sleep, he had work to do. He took Richard’s clothing, storing it along with the other crewmembers’. Then, he called on the other robots, and they began the process of shutting down most of the Zenith. All the energy had to be saved towards maintaining the stasis capsules, and towards the local communication system. For the next centuries, Asbel’s routine would consist of overlooking three hundred sleeping humans, and waiting for the day their group was found.

Asbel was alone. But there, deep within his mind, he felt Richard. Alive. Dreaming. Waiting until he could awake to a new start.

Asbel, too, waited. And some nights, he would watch the stars, thinking about Richard and the day when they would be together again.


End file.
